


Infuriating

by sliverofanonymity



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Amnesia, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Member Death, Female Ejaculation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Masturbation, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Trauma, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:43:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4770536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sliverofanonymity/pseuds/sliverofanonymity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mage Hawke, Fem!Hawke, FenHawke</p><p>------</p><p>Fenris finds Hawke infuriating, among other things. </p><p>Originally I intended for it to be a slow burn, then I wrote smut. (It's chapter 4 in case you were wondering, also chapter 10). </p><p>Fenris might have an alcohol problem. And he's a grumpy guts.</p><p>Anders is not a nice person in this (seriously, thinks that mages, after Tevinter and all that shit deserve to put back on their pedestal? And slaves aren't people?)</p><p>Also I realize that it kinda barely follows canon, the whole recruiting Fenris part, I may have accidentally put that AFTER the deep roads part. Oops. Eep. Well. Bah. </p><p>-----------</p><p>mentions lack of self care, insomnia, sexual frustration, self medicating with alcohol (not a good idea), PTSD, sexual tension, recovering from abuse and neglect, death of family members, trauma induced amnesia (not a blood magic ritual, pretty sure that being tattooed with poison is painful and could have taken his memories with the plain shock to his system, why his hair is white too), sexy sex times</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switches POVs between Fenris and Hawke
> 
> The chapters are pretty short, sorry...

Fenris glared at Hawke from the corner of his eye; the woman was damned near insufferable as she laughed with the abomination about some __mage__ thing. He let out a sigh of annoyance and shifted on his feet.

"You all right, Broody?" Varric asked, adjusting his crossbow a little, then giving it a pat, and putting it on his back once more. Fenris sighed again, crossing and uncrossing his arms, then looking towards the door. The dwarf understood, and they walked together out onto the dusty ground of Darktown.

It had been about three days since they had met, but Fenris felt a slight fondness for Varric and his compassion. Perhaps he could enlighten him on Hawke's behaviour? He huffed again, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. What were they even doing here?

"Calm down there, kid. You know she's only humouring him, right?" Varric began. "Blondie's falling over his feet for her."

Fenris grunted in response, and looked at the bottom of his foot. Mmm, something nasty caked on there. Better not touch it.

"If you want to take a walk, I'll keep an eye on her for you." Varric suggested, pulling his crossbow off his back again, and a cloth from his pocket. Fenris nodded, and set off at a reasonable pace to wander around the dank pit that was Darktown.

He was thankful that the dwarf hadn't looked too far into his restlessness as he ducked into a small abandoned hovel, pulling the flask from his hip and taking a long swig. The alcohol calming his nerves, he breathed out a sigh and looked down at his hands. The tremors had started when they reached the door to the abomination's clinic. He had done his best to still the quaking feeling, and had appeared annoyed and restless instead. The abomination was terrifying.

Taking another quick sip, he thought about Hawke; how she was a mage, and how that hadn't been the first thing he'd noticed about her. She didn't make his lyrium burn, or his hands shake. He looked down at his hands. They had stilled considerably, yet they felt different. Maybe she did make his hands shake? He let out a low chuckle. Of course she made his hands shake, she was a mage. A tempest coated in packed earth, utterly terrifying. However, the flush creeping down his neck said otherwise.

He let out a low groan. Now that he was thinking about Hawke, it was starting to get dangerous. Taking a deep breath and another gulp, emptying his flask, Fenris stepped back onto the packed dirt that was Darktown's streets and headed back towards the clinic.


	2. Chapter 2

Anders would not shut up. He was being a condescending piece of shit, and Hawke hated every second of his sleazy words. He was trying to get her to feel empathy for his cause. She knew he was only trying to get into her smallclothes, and his smarmy better-than-you attitude was pissing her off. She played along with his little game and laughed at his disgusting jokes; he thought she was a little girl, and she knew. She knew how men like him worked, and it made her sick to the pit of her stomach. She needed a distraction, to get away from his clinic and into the sweet fresh linen of her mansion. It had been about three days straight that she had been travelling since she had recruited the dark elf into her little group, and it was starting to take a toll on her patience.

"Look, Anders, could you please just sell me a few potions?" she interjected, in the middle of a long conversation about how it would be glorious if he could live in Tevinter, and be free to practise magic without fear of being locked away.

"Of course, my dear Hawke. Anything for you." his eyes softened, and he grabbed some large bottles from a crate, refusing the coin she offered. She shuddered. Of course, kindness was to be paid back later in sex, wasn't it Anders? she thought, insisting he kept the coin.

"I am not letting you give me supplies for free when you make the refugees pay for it." Hawke crooned, playing along. Anders looked a little smug when he accepted her coin.

"Oh, but I would have been fine with a kiss." He teased. No, that was it, that was the last straw.

"Well, you won't be getting one." Hawke's mouth curved into a disgusted grimace, she turned on her heel and promptly walked out of his clinic.

Varric and Fenris were idling around outside. The dark elf looked terrible, and Bianca looked a bit too shiny. Maker, how long had she been in there?

"Hanged Man?" She suggested, falling into a reasonably fast pace as she jogged up the stairs and into Lowtown.

Fenris shrugged, and Varric nodded.

"Mind if we pick up Daisy, Hawke?" Varric asked as they came up near the Alienage. Hawke shrugged. The gentle Dalish woman was adorable, and she was always open for guests.

"Why not?" She replied, her mood lifting considerably.

As they reached the steps down to the Alienage, Hawke remembered the last time she had come down here. Three days ago - well, two and a bit - on a strange mission, which she had been doing for coin, and ended up without any, yet with a brooding, dark, and handsome. She smiled to herself, as she caught the elven man in question staring at her. His brows drawing closer as she turned that smile towards him.

Striding through the loose packed dirt to Merrill's humble abode, Hawke stifled a yawn, wondering if Merrill would allow her to have a small nap when they got there. She knocked heavily on the door, and was greeted by Merrill's muffled voice.

"Come in! - Creators it's a mess in here! -" Hawke opened the door, and saw Merrill throwing together some sort of seating arrangement, shoving heavy tomes and parchment out of the way.

"Hawke!" she sounded delighted, finally coming up to greet her with a hug. "Ooh, and you've brought Varric and Fenris too!" She busied herself getting everyone seated and getting them cups of water, setting a large jug down on the table.

"Ooh, you must be thirsty! Have you slept yet?" She kept on with the questions as she stirred a bubbling soup on the fire, the scent setting off a chorus of rumbling in Hawke's belly, and that of one of her companions; by the look on Varric's face, it was Fenris'.

"Maker's breath, Hawke, did you not stop to eat?" Varric looked at Fenris and Hawke with a strange expression. Merrill fussed even more.

Hawke shrugged. In all honesty, she was probably still running on adrenaline after finding Fenris on those steps. Slavers and Tevinter absolutely made her blood boil; the treatment of elves in the Alienages was disgusting. Yet, she did not feel the same compassion toward mages. Magic was DANGEROUS. Starving, desperate people were NOT.

"By the Dread Wolf! Hawke, have you been running around since reclaiming the mansion?" Merrill shot her a look, then quickly ladled out a bowl of soup, and produced a loaf of somewhat stale bread with a wheel of cheese. She placed them all on the table in front of the dark skinned elf, then busied herself with getting utensils and more soup for the others.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gets a bit, uh, sexy, I guess... a bit
> 
> Silky Orlesian smallclothes! Breeches!

Fenris stared down at the soup. It smelt delicious, and he was starving. He had only stopped to drink, and hadn't eaten at all since meeting Hawke. He saw Hawke hungrily digging into her soup, using the stale bread as a spoon, her expression filling with joy as the soup was consumed. Varric was savouring the soup with a fond expression, and Merrill was cutting up some cheese and intermittantly nibbling at it in between giggles and chattering. Merrill was an awful disgusting blood mage, but she was a wonderful cook. He downed the soup quickly and did not turn down her offers for second helpings.

"Ooh, Hawke, I wasn't sure if you'd pop in and see me today. Varric said he was going to ask you, and if I could make this soup. I didn't realise you hadn't eaten since you took back the mansion!" Merrill's bubbly voice covering the sounds of chewing. Fenris, finally feeling full, finished his soup and began picking at the hunk of leftover bread, cleaning the bowl with it. He leaned back, and let his eyes wander.

"Thank you, Merrill," Hawke smiled at the Dalish woman, also leaning back and absently rubbing her full belly. "Your soup is amazing."

Fenris could see the pink spreading across the pale elven woman's features as she began to stammer and mutter about it being nothing, something Dalish, nothing special. Of course. He turned his attentions back to Hawke; she caught his eye and smiled sleepily, stretching, then yawning.

Varric spoke up, bringing him back into the moment. Something about the Hanged Man. He felt himself shaking his head wearily, and barely registered getting up out of the chair. He had made it to the top the stairs of the Alienage before Hawke caught up with him. She seemed out of breath, her cheeks tinged pink. Apparently, being an apostate mage meant neglecting one's fitness. He gave her soft body a hard look. __Infuriating.__

"Leave me be." He grunted, though slowing his pace for the rotund mage to follow. He hadn't noticed before, but she was extremely fleshy; her breasts and belly jiggled within a shapeless shift. He paused to let her pass him slightly, the jiggling flesh of her buttocks and thighs distracting him further. She had stopped, a look of horror sweeping her soft features as she noticed he was staring. He hoped that she would read his mood and leave him be, yet her brows came together, and there was a faint sizzle of her magic that set off a tingling in his markings. She was now glaring at him, all concern and caring gone from her features.

"I get it, my being __fat__ disgusts you." She accused, her arms wobbling as she raised them, he could feel the electricity seeping off her.

"Hawke...," he began, looking at her dangerously, scanning the area for Templars, yet at the top of the stairs to the Alienage, it appeared they were safe. He began to walk again, hoping she would follow him angrily. Which she did, seemingly begrudgingly.

Once they were a safe distance, in a small side alley, she began to hiss angrily at him, venting all of the shame and horror his look brought up. He let her vent, not saying a thing until she had finished. Once her feelings about her body had been laid bare, he lead her out of the alleyway, and back onto the streets of Lowtown. She walked beside him silently, clutching her arms to her wide waist tightly in an attempt to still the jiggling of her breasts. He lead her to the mansion she had helped him clear less than three days prior. They dodged the foul bloated corpses and he lead her to a chest in one of the smaller rooms. While he had had some time to himself, he had gone through the drawers, looking for anything that could help him find Danarius. In this particular room, he had found a collection of robes and other fripperies crafted lovingly in Orlesian fabrics for what seemed to be a larger lady. An aunt perhaps. He didn't know.

He gestured for her to open the chest. She looked a little uncertain, yet he hoped she would understand his intentions.

\-----

Hawke opened the chest tentatively. Silky small clothes, corsets and other fripperies greeted her. She glanced at Fenris expectantly, hoping for an answer to his clearly perverted mind, yet he shrugged.

"They were already here, Hawke. You may take them." He shuffled a little uncomfortably and left the room. She glanced around, noticing the bed was relatively untouched, save for the covers being thrown back in what she assumed had been his thorough search of the mansion. She lifted some of the small clothes out of the drawer. They were silly Orlesian things, yet as she held them to her hips, she was surprised to find they might actually __fit__ her. She hurriedly inspected the other items; the robes, the dresses, Maker, the __breeches__. She kicked off her worn slippers and pulled on a pair of soft brown breeches. The high waist and the generous stretch of the leather pulled her lower belly in. The clothes fit. The breeches fit! She tied them tightly and sought out some boots and a tunic. Unfortunately, she found the previous owner did not seem to own boots, and the slippers she did find were as scuffed and smelly as her own. She observed them closer, perhaps they __were__ her own.

Leaving her shapeless shift on the bed, she exited the room wearing the breeches and a few other pairs tucked under her arm, a lavender tunic brought in at the waist by what appeared to be a very handy Magister belt with pockets, and what appeared to be slots for lyrium potions. She had also stuffed some of the small clothes into the pockets. She could __not__ let mother see those.

"Fenris...," she tentatively called out into the dank mansion. There was a grunt from what sounded like upstairs in reply.

She climbed the stairs and reached the room he appeared to have claimed. There was a fire crackling and he was sitting in a chair drinking from a bottle of red wine, staring into the fire. He gave another grunt in acknowledgement as she entered the room, his eyes flickered briefly to her, then back at the fire. He took another swig of wine and offered her the bottle. She took it, sitting down in another of the chairs, taking a long swig. Fenris put his feet up on the table between them, pulling another bottle from beside him. He poked a hole in the cork with the finger of his gauntlet and the piece of cork fell inside the bottle. He took a long swig and let out a sigh, or a groan. She couldn't tell. Lifting her own feet up onto the table, she began to compare them to his.

They sat like this for a while, Fenris finishing two bottles before his deep baritone broke through her thoughts.

"You aren't disgusting."

Hawke barely registered what he had said, as she was still comparing their feet, edging her own closer to his and wiggling her toes at him.

He took another swig, finishing the bottle, then sitting himself up. He stood and walked to the corner of the room behind the partition, where he kept his chamber pot and tub. He relieved himself for what seemed like forever. Hawke had now finished the bottle and was starting to snicker at how long it was taking the elven man to pee. She heard the rustle of leathers as he readjusted himself and sat back down. Feet up on the table again, he reached down for another bottle, knocking over empty ones in the process. He sat up again, cursing in Tevine, then he looked over at her.

"I don't think you're disgusting." he said again. Her feet had reached his now, and she pressed her toes into the sole of his foot. She smiled at the small victory, then looked over to him, catching his eyes and finally registering what he said. She could feel embarrassment prickling at her skin, her palms beginning to sweat.

"You're just saying that..."

He moved his toes to play with hers. Leaning further back in the chair, stretching his legs out further so he could run his foot along her leg. He hummed, his voice coming out as a low rumble. Hawke trembled a little at his touch.

"I don't think you are disgusting." he repeated once more, slipping a foot between her thighs, then bringing it back up to her knees. Hawke gasped. This was a strange game they were playing.

"You don't?" she asked, immediately regretting the naivety in her voice. She grabbed one of his legs in her own and pulled his foot closer.

"No." he replied, his foot clumsily caressing her arm.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunken fondling?
> 
> I don't know. I really don't.
> 
> Smutty I guess? Yeah, it's smutty.
> 
> Haha, slow burn.. it's not a slow burn. I lied. I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It appears I am churning this fic out. 
> 
> I'll go back and edit this properly once I have had a nap I guess. (Or I'll get my partner to do it. Yessss)

Fenris had been hard since sitting back down. The clothes he had found in that chest had done wonders for Hawke's mood; her waist, her legs, his eyes trailed up his own legs to where his foot was caressing her shoulder, then across the lavender tunic. The fabric fell softly, yet the most distracting thing was the giant gape at the front. His foot meandered over to the gape, loosening the strings further as he stuck his foot inside her tunic and began to fondle her breast.

She let out a moan, his other foot slipping between her thighs again. He pressed his digits into the soft mound. Her own foot came to cup his balls, then run up and down his length. He began to pant; aching for more, he withdrew his legs and sat up. Hawke looked dazed, a flush coloured her cheeks as she squirmed, squeezing her thighs together. Her eyes hooded with desire.

Tearing the gauntlets from his arms, Fenris crawled under the table and between her legs. He rested his face on her mound and inhaled deeply. He could smell her arousal through the leather.

"Do you want to?" he asked, running his hands up her hips to her back. Hawke bit her lip and nodded, trying to sit up, yet his deft fingers undid the laces on her breeches and they were around her ankles before she could do anything. Fenris pressed the bridge of his nose into the moistened fabric of her small clothes, moving his head from side to side slowly, hearing the squelch of her soaked labia.

"Hawke?" he asked again, lifting her hips and pulling her legs over his shoulders, still crouching under the table. He caught her eyes, she nodded again.

"Yes." she moaned, watching as he pulled at her small clothes with his teeth. He somehow managed to get them over her knees. Pressing the flat of his tongue against her labia, he breathed out heavily, watching as her lips parted and her entrance throbbed.

He dropped his tongue between her wet folds and began to kiss and lick her all over, his tongue flicking over her clit, dipping into her entrance, back to her clit, then thrusting deep inside her. He sucked at her clit with his lip, and tongued her vagina, kissing and sucking and slurping. Hawke's moans spurred him on. She was clenching around his tongue. He slipped two fingers inside, continuing to suck at her clit, his fingers thrusting and curling, caressing the velvety skin that made her scream. He did that over and over until she was shrieking and clawing at his hair. He felt a hot gush of liquid as she came, but he didn't stop. Her thighs shook as he made her shriek and scream over and over again. Relishing in the ejaculate and how much more __wet__ she had become.

Hawke was gasping his name, pulling at his hair.

"F-Fenris... inside me..."

He stopped, she squirmed, breathing heavily.

"I want you... inside me..."


	5. Chapter 5

Hawke awoke with a start. For a moment she didn't know where she was, though as the scent of corpse filled her nose, she realised she must have fallen asleep in Fenris' mansion. Sitting up slowly, she surveyed the room, Fenris was passed out in his chair by the fire, a trail of drool making its way down his shoulder. Barely registering anything other than her throbbing head, she tried to recall when she had fallen asleep. Her neck felt stiff, and she needed to pee, getting up from the chair as quietly as possible, she made her way sleepily downstairs, carrying the bundle of clothes she had pilfered. Those fresh linens of the Amell mansion beckoned her, and she was nearly out the door when she heard Fenris swear loudly in Tevine, and a crash of empty bottles.

"Fenris?" She called back up the stairs, straining against the loud noise. The dark skinned elf came thundering down the stairs.

"You need me for something?" He asked, glaring at her, as she was preparing to leave. Or did he think she'd just arrived? She  _was_ standing in the entrance.

"I was just leaving, I feel like a bath and my bed." She explained, reaching for the doorknob. The harsh light of the setting sun hit them both, she felt positively wretched. 

"I see. Later, Hawke." He sauntered off back into the blackness of his mansion as she exited.

Wobbling a little as she stepped out onto the cobblestones, Hawke made her way into the orange courtyard and down the stairs, the sunlight blinding as she descended. The sooner she got home, the sooner she could crawl into bed.

 

Bodhan greeted her as she entered, she gave him a weak smile, her mother however looked at her with disappointment.

"Three days, you have not been home for THREE days. Do you know what I thought? I thought maybe you'd been caught by the Templars!"

 "I'm sorry mother..." Hawke began, shifting her bundle of clothing under her arm, one of the silky Orlesian smallclothes slipped out and fell onto the floor. Leandra shot her daughter a shocked look.

"Where did you get those? Who gave them to you? Where is that robe I bought for you?" So many accusations thrown at once, she didn't have time for this, or the patience, so she leant down, grabbed the smallclothes and ran upstairs before her mother could chastise her further.

Locking the door behind her, Hawke breathed a sigh of relief. She deposited the pile of clothes on her bed and flopped down next to them. Mother could be a bit... overbearing sometimes, especially since Bethy's death and Carver's "disappearance". However, being the eldest of the three didn't stop her from being treated like a misbehaving toddler.

She closed her eyes and sighed, turning over and flopping a leg over the pile of clothes, she supposed she should bathe and all that, but sitting up seemed an effort. 

 

Fenris' dulcet baritone and grunting suddenly filled her memory, had they really done that foot thing? She remembered vaguely touching his feet with her own, and drinking wine straight from the bottle, his gauntlet poking a cork into another bottle, and vague flirtation.

She rolled her eyes. Terrible flirting that involved telling her that she was not disgusting. Shame and embarrassment washed over her as she recalled how she had thought he found her disgusting, and how she had accused him of glaring at her in disgust.

He definitely glared this afternoon though. She shrugged, squirming as she recalled the urge to pee, getting up off the bed and pulling off her breeches after tossing her slippers aside. 

 

After a pee and a quick rinse at her basin, Hawke felt much better, pouring herself a cup of water, she wandered around her room in nothing except her house tunic and one of the silky pairs of smallclothes. They fit all right, if a little big, which was surprisingly pleasant, compared to the tight cloth she normally had to struggle into. 

Flopping back onto the bed, she felt a stirring in her loins as she recalled Fenris' foot slipping between her thighs.

It had only been for a vague moment, but it was more intimate than anything she had had for a long time. Wondering what it would have felt like if he'd pressed his toes further between her legs, she squirmed, feeling the familiar sensation of arousal. Slipping a hand between her thighs, she began to imagine what might have happened.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Fenris groaned, clutching at his head, he was slumped over in his chair.

"Fasta vass!" He hissed, the pain was tolerable, but the memories of earlier had him feeling dizzy. How much of that had been real? He still had his gauntlets on, so that couldn't have been...

Three days of this woman and here he was, deep in the fantasy that he could have her. It was this stupid illusion of kindness, of coddling, of something directed at him.

He cursed again, raking his gauntleted hands through his hair, he wasn't supposed to be happy, to feel loved, he knew this, and it wasn't as if anything particularly explicit had occurred between them. 

He could feel the ache in his body from overuse, he hadn't even slept until she'd been there with him, her constant company for the three days suddenly ended and he didn't know what to do.

Nothing could have prepared him for her, a mage, who kept such undesirable company, to be such a source of peace for him. Perhaps it was due to her being a force mage... He didn't know.

Finally getting out of his chair, he thought about adding some things to the fire he thought needed burning. Wandering from room to room he decided on shifting the corpses to one of the rooms and blocking it off. 

He reached the room that he had lead Hawke to earlier and found the shift laying across the bed. Fiddling around with the drawers and curtains before finally sitting down next to the shift. He reached out a quaking hand to grasp at the fabric, feeling almost as if he were reaching for her hand. Shyly, he pulled the fabric closer, his blood pounding in his ears, wondering if it smelled like her.

Lifting the fabric to his face, he inhaled sharply, turning the shift in his hands, recalling her poorly bound breasts jiggling. He let out a low whine, he hadn't noticed her body earlier, but now that he had, he wanted to get lost inside it. 

The strange feeling kept washing over him as he scrunched the fabric against his face. Falling back onto the bed, he let the shift drop onto his body in a heap, imagining her on top of him, her weight on his hips and lower belly. His pelvis arched in some mockery of sex, the scent of ripe lychee and whiskey wafting from Hawke's shift, along with something salty. He moaned through a bit of fabric as he brought it up to his face, the smell of her sweat filled his nostrils as he continued to rock his hips. 

The thought of her, rubbing her feet against his, drinking the wine he'd offered her, the way her arse curved in those breeches, the way her tunic hung open and her breasts heaved.

The way she'd looked at him the moment he told her about being an ex-slave, the passionate hatred in her voice as she spoke about killing all slavers. The annoyance she shared with him when they found the mansion empty, the ways she had said she'd kill Danarius. 

Thinking of her soaked in the brains and entrails of his former master, turning towards him with that wicked grin of hers, and telling him he was free was getting him even harder.

His erection strained at his tight leather pants and he tore off a gauntlet to pull his throbbing cock out of its restraint. Already dripping with precum, he thought of her sliding her tongue down and over his head, licking up the mess he was making because of her.

"Hawke..." He moaned, low and gutteral as he pumped his length slowly, rubbing up over his head, smothering his hand in the fluid, then striking down again slickly. He rubbed the fabric against his face with his gauntleted hand, inhaling her scent.

 

He brought himself close to coming, then slowed down, teasing himself as he thought she might do. Her shift scrunched in his gauntleted hand and a sleeve draped over his face, he breathed heavily, grabbing the other sleeve and wrapping it loosely around his cock. 

He brought himself to another peak, and kept himself there for as long as he could, imaging her coming undone above him, crying out his name like some passionate Chantry verse. He sheathed himself inside the tunnel he'd made with her shift and his hand and bucked, feeling his balls tighten and his cock throb before he came. 

He groaned heavily, pumping his seed into Hawke's shift, soaking the fabric and creating a slippery mess. He tried to catch his breath, but his cock was still hard, if a little sensitive. He moaned, rubbing the slick mess against his aching cock. 

His face flushing with desire and shame as he realized what he had done, and was continuing to do. Pleasuring himself with Hawke's clothing, dipping his foot between her thighs, getting hard in front of her, having  _that dream_ about her earlier.

He wanted her, badly.

It had only been three days.

This was infuriating. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha, Andraste preserve me! I can't stop writing this fic!! 
> 
> Maybe I can get back to canon? Haha, who knows.
> 
> Maker.

Hawke dragged her sleepy body out of bed, down the stairs and into the kitchen. She was starving, and after a terrible sleep between nightmares of Anders coming on to her, and Fenris ripping her heart from her chest, she felt she needed something big. The intense masturbation hadn't helped either.

"Good morning, Messer!" Bodahn called out cheerfully. 

Hawke stifled a yawn and returned his greeting, ducking into the kitchen and grabbing some semblance of food, her mother was sitting in a high backed chair peeling an apple. Hawke lent down to give her mother a kiss on the cheek, Leandra smiled at her daughter's affections and offered her some of the apple. It was like when she was young, and mother would peel and slice an apple for her, Bethy, and Carver. 

Lost in some old memories, Hawke chewed at the apple. Her mother's peeling and occasional soft crunching along with the crack and spittle of the fireplace had her feeling relaxed. She was about to have an after breakfast snooze when there was an echoing knocking at the mansion door. 

Hawke could hear Bodahn talking to someone, but only the dwarf's side of the conversation. Her mother rose, setting aside the apple core and the knife, briskly wiping her hands on a delicate napkin. She heard her mother leave the room and greet whomever it was at the door.

 

A soft padding of bare feet could be heard in the entrance, as well as the soft rumble of conversation between at least four people. Hawke forced an eye to open as the voices reached the sitting room. Obviously the guests were for her mother. She sunk further into the chair, supposing she should see Aveline about some work, considering the last job she did was to help an escaped slave, who barely had any coin. Perhaps she could take Fenris to see Aveline, see if the city guards could help at all.

She absently scratched at her bare leg, and readjusted her tunic, she supposed she might want to put on some pants. Standing, she turned to leave the room, supposing she'd sneak a peek at mother's guests. 

 

"Here she is! Why didn't you tell me you made some new friends?" Her mother pulled her immediately into the conversation. Hawke was immediately aware that she was inappropriately dressed to greet most of her friends right now. However, Merrill was not one of the friends she was worried about. 

The Dalish woman greeted Hawke excitedly. "Oh, this is a lovely home! I hope you don't mind I dropped in!" 

"Of course not!" Hawke smiled gently, embracing the slim woman in a hug. Merrill's face turned a lovely pink and the stammering and tripping over words began. Leandra managed to calm her down however. 

"I'm just going upstairs to change, I'll be back down with my Grimoir if you like?" Merrill nodded, the enthusiasm on her face increasing Hawke's fondness for her.

She wandered slowly up the stairs, thinking about why she thought she'd heard somebody else, and discovered why when she reached the landing of the upper level of the mansion.

 

Varric stood at the window, looking out into the streets of Kirkwall, he registered Hawke's presence with a nod. 

"Daisy wanted to come and see you Hawke." He smiled, shifting to face her. 

Hawke smiled, Varric was looking out for Merrill in the way she couldn't.   

"Thank you Varric, I don't know what I'd do if she got lost, or taken to the circle!" Hawke sighed, Bethy probably would have been taken to the circle if she'd lived. "I'm getting my Grimoir for her. It's mostly alchemical formulae though.."

Varric looked in towards Hawke's room, a slight grimace crossing his face. 

"Blondie also tagged along, I think he's writing his manifesto at your desk." he looked towards Hawke with a sort of apologetic expression. She shrugged in response, walking into her room with Varric. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long. I got a block like a sentence before the end...


	8. Chapter 8

He gazed out the window, the abomination was attempting to make conversation. Why he had tagged along with them was starting to slip his mind as he reached for his flask and took a long drink. The abomination was talking out loud again, as Fenris fondled the soft velvety curtains of Hawke's bedroom. They held a faint trace of her scent.

He could hear Varric chattering away to someone as his fingers lingered on the intricate design of the lace, tiny Amell crests were woven into the burgundy fabric. They must have cost a fortune.

He stepped over to the bookcase now, strumming the strings of the lute absently as he passed. His fingers tracing over the spines of the books, and their embossed symbols. He picked one at random, flicking through the pages looking for illustrations. Giving up when there were none. 

His eyes flicked towards the doorway, as he heard footfalls. Briefly catching Hawke's gaze, before looking away. He could feel the flush creep up his neck, and the prickle of anxiety wash over him as she exclaimed his name. 

The abomination stirred, the faint crackling of the demon sent a chill through his lyrium, as Hawke gave a forced laugh.  

 Glancing at her again, he saw her legs were bare. Holding back a nervous chuckle, as the abomination had also noticed and was trying hard not to stumble over himself. 

"Fool." He muttered under his breath before going back to ignoring the conversation and running his fingers along her books. He pulled out a rather large embossed fancy looking book and began to look once more for illustrations, there seemed to be plenty, and of different plants.

Hawke gently touched his left bicep, he tensed, unable to breathe, as he felt others eyes on him. Hawkes small, deft hands gently pried the book from his. Feeling his throat constrict, he tried to hold back the terror of unwanted physical contact. That this was Hawke, not Danarius, not Hadriana. He tried to pull himself back into the present, yet Hawke was still touching him. He couldn't ground himself, he couldn't...

"Take the damned book already!" He yelled, releasing the book before pushing her, the claws of his gauntlets catching on her tunic. 

 He caught the look of terror in her eyes as his hand phased through her tunic, into her soft flesh. She gasped, letting the book drop, before grabbing the sides of his face. He felt his hands drop back through, Hawke's voice breaking through his head, the abomination yelling when she told him to get out, Varric closing the door on them.

He shuddered as she took his hands and continued to bring him back to the present. He felt so angry, so ashamed, he'd slipped. 

 "Fenris, look at me!" He heard her plead, he shuddered and flinched away with each touch, as if he were being whipped again. She took his face in her hands again, "Fenris, please!"

A hot rush of shame spread through his chest, she thinks me weak...

 


	9. Chapter 9

Fenris was sobbing, hot angry tears flowed down his face as he tried to push Hawke away.

"Get the fuck away from me Hadriana, I didn't do anything to displease Master Danarius today." His voice cracked. He flinched away from her last attempt at a gentle touch, before she dropped her hands from him. 

He retreated in on himself, backing away until he hit the wall, sliding down and roughly ending up on the floor. Sobs wracked his body as Hawke tried to find a way to get him out of his head. 

"Fenris!" She tried again, this time firmly. "You are safe! This is Kirkwall!" 

The sobbing stopped, Hawke dreaded to think how much he had been through. "Fenris...?" 

"Don't." He choked, gripping her hand. "Please don't." 

He looked so young and vulnerable as he looked down at their hands. 

"Hawke..." His brows drew together as he brought his other hand up to rub at his temple. 

 

He could feel the concern and pity leaking from her every pore. It shamed him, he'd done so well up until this point, avoiding his problems like he was supposed to. However, she had seen him, seen the slave, seen the torture, seen him come undone, he didn't like how it was making him feel. 

"Fenris..." She started, but he silenced her with a frustrated growl. 

"Stop it." He hissed, his head beginning to throb. "Don't look at me like that."

Hawke's brows drew together in concern. 

"Like what?" She reached out her other hand. He batted it away with more force than required, yet she didn't flinch. Her expression hardening, yet her gaze remaining focused. She gave his hand a squeeze, and he felt his chest get hot, it reached his neck before he could pry his hand free. 

"Stop." He groaned, hating how pathetic he sounded. "Hawke, please don't." 

Hawke looked puzzled now, her hands held either side of her, she adjusted her position, sitting with her legs crossed.

"Stop looking at me..." He continued, he could feel her eyes prodding at his skin, his lyrium aching.

She averted her eyes and made to stand up. 

"Sorry! Sorry! I was just worried about you!" Her hands flapping in front of her face as she apologized. Standing and heading towards the door.

"Hawke..." He could hear himself pleading again. 

She caught his eyes again, then looked away.

"Yes?"

 He lifted his hand to touch her, then remembered why he'd come. Hesitating, he dropped his hand again. 

"I have a lead on Danarius' apprentice, Hadriana..." 

Hawke looked at him, this time she looked as if she wanted blood.

"She's the one you were screaming about, the one you were begging not to touch you. She hurt you!" She snarled. "Let me get ready, I---"

Fenris allowed himself a small smile.

"Hawke..." He warned. Yet she began throwing things at the bed, her staff, her breeches. While cursing and yelling about how she would flay the skin from her face. 

"I will flay her! Fenris, I will murder her! She will die for this, she and that piece of shit Danarius, both of them!"

He watched her swing open the door and yell down to Varric and Merrill, while pulling her breeches up under her tunic. Letting out a low groan as he saw she was wearing some of the smallclothes, gorgeous lacy things, and nothing more under her tunic as she lifted it over her head. 

She gave so little care to him watching her, grinning as she pulled the tight fitting bustier over her ample bust. 

Merrill was suddenly speaking to him. 

"Hawke has lovely breasts." She sighed, dreamily. "So pillowy and soft." 

Varric chuckled from the doorway. 

"Isabella's are nice too." She continued. "What do you think, Fenris? Varric?"

"Alright for human breasts, I guess." Varric shrugged as Hawke finished putting her other tunic on, and was in the process of cinching her belt tighter.

"Thank you Merrill. I love how pert and high yours are!" Hawke gushed. Merrill blushed. 

The abomination was standing out in the hallway, and finally came into the room as Hawke was lacing up a pair of thigh high boots. Fenris knew the look on his face was a predatory kind of hunger, he grunted in disgust. 

 

"A true gentleman waits away while a lady dresses." Anders spoke with indignation, glaring at Fenris as he strode in. "He does not stare..."

Hawke let out a short, clipped laugh. 

"And I am to believe that?" She asked as she felt his eyes linger at the split in her tunic a moment too long. "You letch. A woman wants a man whom she can consent to letting him watch. Knowing he won't touch without asking!"

She looked over to Fenris with intent and passion in her eyes, and saw the tip of his ears fill with blood. He looked away from her pointedly, shifting his foot and looking anywhere but at her.

Anders tutted at Hawke, she tuned out when he began telling her that "the world didn't work that way".

"Look, we're helping Fenris, are you in, or are you out?" She asked him. Anders shrugged and resumed sitting at her desk, picking up his quill and parchment. 

Hawke lead them downstairs, and bid her mother farewell, Leandra giving Fenris a strange look, before closing the door on them.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy sex sex!
> 
> Anal fingering! Vaginal fingering! Anal sex! Rimming! Cunnilingus! Vaginal sex! 
> 
> Andraste's tits, so much sex!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of sex! 
> 
> Like, almost no plot.

The walk to the wounded coast was long, and they had barely left Kirkwall when they were ambushed by slavers.

Fenris quickly made work of them, discovering that Hadriana had been planning to kidnap him and bring him back to Danarius. 

"We have to find her!" He hissed, pulling Hawke aside, after she had looted the slavers corpses. She nodded. "She will not have you while I am here." 

Somehow, the way she said that made his heart begin to pound. His memory returned to her, hours earlier, threatening to flay her. He hoped she would retain that threat. 

The sky was darkening as twilight set in, and Varric set up the tents. 

"We need to camp here for the night." He informed them, "No fire though." 

Hawke nodded, and she grabbed Merrill, and they set about putting up a barrier. Fenris looked away as the witch pulled the blood from the corpses to strengthen Hawke's wards. 

Varric had set up the tents, saying he would take watch, if the ladies fancied a dip. Merrill declined, sleepily, retreating to one of the tents, informing Varric that she would have the next watch.

Hawke slipped her staff beside the other tent and reached into her pack for some soap. She grabbed Fenris' arm on the way back, grimacing as her hand came back sticky with blood. 

"You smell absolutely disgusting. Come with me." Varric waved at their retreating figures as they headed towards a secluded cove.

 

Stripping off his armor, yet keeping his leggings on, Fenris took the soap from Hawke and began to lather it over his body. Concentrating on his torso, he watched as the water turned a creamy pink, Hawke had stripped entirely and was sitting waist deep in the water, detangling her hair with a comb and some oils. He waded in further, to sit beside her, passing her the soap as he rinsed himself of the blood.

"My scent no longer assaults your delicate nose?" He asked, being able to smell the gentle scent of the soap wafting from his own body.

She grinned and twisted her body to face him, producing a small vial of oil.

"May I?" She asked, gesturing towards his hair. He shook his head however, and took the vial from her, rubbing it into his scalp, and immediately regretting using so much, as the overpowering scent hit his nostrils. Hawke shyly bit her lip and took the bottle from him gently, rising up onto her knees to fix his hair. 

"Hawke..." He warned, as she ran her hands delicately through his locks, pulling the knots out with her fingers, tracing the shape of his skull with her knuckles, her breasts swaying in his face. 

He mustn't have been aware that he was holding his breath, and let it out in a soft sigh. As deft fingers ran along the back of his neck and over his shoulders, releasing tension. He moaned as she drew closer, his arms coming to gently envelop her waist. 

His breath was coming out in short pants as she straddled him, the water swirling between them, lapping at where her soft, pale skin touched his scarred, dark skin. His hands shook as she ground against him, rubbing her breasts against his clavicle and neck. 

"Hawke..." He moaned, his voice cracking with tension.

She dragged her lips up his neck, breathing heavily in his ear.

"You missed a spot." She moaned, palming his erection through his leggings. He bucked into her hand.

Allowing himself pleasure wasn't ever an option before, and he wanted Hawke to touch him. Over and over again. 

"Did I?" He teased. "Where?"

Hawke palmed his erection more obviously, setting the soap and oils on a rock jutting from the water.

"Here?" She ventured, grabbing his throbbing cock through his pants.

"Lower." He groaned, pulling her hand down.

Hawke slipped her hand below his waistband, cupping his balls, Fenris squirmed and thrust his hips up. Pulling his pants off and flinging them back towards the rest of their clothes. 

He knelt on one knee, his other spread beside him, guiding Hawkes small hands lower. Her deft fingers found the pucker of his arse, and she was quick to pull out the oil.

He moaned, clinging to her shoulders as she worked to loosen him, soon she had three fingers to the knuckles, curling and stroking his sweet spot, while her other hand worked lazily on his erection. One of his hands clung to the back of her neck, while the other was slipping between her thighs. He moaned and bucked into her hand as her fingers found that spot again, massaging and thrusting inside him. 

He parted her labia with his fingers, his thumb finding her clit, while two slid inside her sopping vagina. Before long, she was bucking into his hand, the water splashing and her obscene gasps bringing him closer to the edge. 

Hawke had her whole hand inside him, her knuckles grazing the tight ring of muscle as she slowly fucked him with her hand and pumped him with the other.

Fenris had his four fingers deep inside her, thrusting and his thumb working her clit, his other hand working at her arse, a finger teasing the tight muscle, two fingers... three. 

She was coming, yelling and screaming his name, again and again. She pushed her hand in further, he began to shake. 

"H-hawke--!!" He stuttered as he could feel himself climaxing, his anus throbbing with every thrust of her fist, his cock straining with every tug. Suddenly his balls tightened, he clenched around her fist, and he was coming. 

Strings of thick cum shot between them as he groaned, gasped, out of breath, and groaned again as he ejaculated. Hawke eased her hand out of his arse, the hole gaped a little, so she left two fingers in, stroking him gently and he let out a moan as he came anally. 

His hands were quaking, yet he managed to finish Hawke vaginally at least thrice more, and anally twice. The moans she let out had him rubbing his renewed erection against her belly. 

His eyes flared with passion as he saw her look at his fresh arousal.

"Hawke." He groaned. "I..." He swallowed thickly, then continued. "I want to make love to you."

Hawke visibly shivered at those words, grabbing his hand and nodding, before leading him out of the water and onto the rocky shore.

The night air was balmy on their bodies, and Fenris pulled Hawke down into a fevered kiss, their limbs intertwining as they hit the rocks. Hawke pinned him down with a kiss, easing herself onto his stiff cock. Her slick vagina making lewd moist sounds as it sucked him inside. He thrust quickly inside her, groaning as she took his girth with little resistance. He began to rapidly move his hips, thrusting up into her wetness. She thrust back down, and their bodies began a squelching, slapping duet, accompanied by moaning and grunts. 

He came quickly this time, shallow and barely, yet Hawke was insufferably insatiable, and rolled onto her back, gripping his hips with her legs. His cock didn't have time to go limp, as he thrust deep inside her, eliciting a sweet song of pleasure from her throat.

They rutted together for what seemed like forever, Fenris fervently kissing and nipping at her neck, the soft slapping sound echoing off the rocks of the cove. 

He reached between them to rub at her clit, and she came, tugging his hair, clawing at his skin, he rutted harder, feeling the renewed slickness from when she gushed. He came, deep this time, while pounding her. Kissing her desperately, a low whine leaving his throat as he pumped the last of his seed inside her. 

He felt her arms pull him close, and they lay, breathing heavily on each other. She grinned and kissed him lazily. 

 

He slowly moved back onto his arms and pulled his flaccid member out even slower. She shuddered as he pulled the last of himself out, his seed trickling down her thigh. He watched in awe, then threw himself head first between her thighs. Nuzzling her mound.

"May I?" He asked, his eyes shining with lust.

Hawke nodded as he slipped the flat of his tongue between her labia. He sighed. 

"I've wanted to do this... With you..." He groaned as he traced lazy circles around her clit with his tongue. 

"Really?" Hawke gasped as he licked and sucked up his seed, swallowing the bitter mixture, while tasting her salty tang.

"Yesterday especially..." He groaned, palming his hardening cock.

Thrusting his tongue inside her, he swirled it around, sucking out his seed, then focused himself on making her come again. 

 

Her hands were knotted in his hair, and she could feel his fingers in her, his tongue sucking and flicking her clit, she bucked into his mouth, eliciting a moan from him. He went deeper with his fingers and stronger with his tongue.

She couldn't breathe, she panted and came again and again against his mouth, Maker! In his mouth. He sighed against her labia as the hot liquid gushed over his face. He groaned as she cried his name. Thankful that she had put sound wards up before bathing, both here and at the camp.

Fenris' tongue dipped lower, as he began to lick her arse, while rubbing her clit, he tongued her puckered hole, sucked and rubbed his mouth in and around, his nose dipping in between her labia, he shook his head from side to side rapidly, rubbing at her clit while tonguing her anus, she squirted on his face again. He chuckled low in his throat, the vibration making her moan. 

He crawled back up onto all fours, until he was above her, his erection nearly purple. 

"Hawke..." He moaned into her neck. "I want you... again... Please..."

She rolled onto her front, and they started out vaginally, until she came at least twice, then he teased her anus, stretching her and lubricating her with her cum. He pushed his head past the tight ring of muscle, she gushed again, he fingered her, wanking her clit as he pushed deeper into her arse. 

Hawke let out a low groan as he slid in further, pulled almost entirely out, then slowly back in. Fenris started a slow rhythm, getting deeper and deeper, until he had entered her completely. 

He started to pick up the pace, Hawkes breasts began to swing lewdly at the movement, she bucked against his hips as he rubbed another orgasm out of her clit. 

He was pounding her now, she was screaming his name and the word yes over and over. He pulled out and shot his seed in the small of her back.

Pulling her close, Fenris collapsed onto the rocks. He murmured something with a voice that was thick with sleep, and Hawke closed her eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andraste's tits. I got carried away there. Also I am sorry, but not really.
> 
> Happy reading!!

Hawke scrubbed at Fenris' bloodied upper body, feeling him sigh and lean into her. 

"Don't fall asleep or anything..." She joked as she finally got those damned clots out of a large tangled knot of hair, he was starting to smell better now too. The Antivan soaps her mother had bought for her upon receiving her inheritance were  _finally_ fulfilling their duty.

Running her pale hands over his dark skin, Hawke let herself look at his tattoos. Pale lyrium blue lines and swirls etched into his flesh, curling up his arms, curving around his neck and ribs, carved down his forearms and fingers. They disappeared below his leggings, and reappeared following the tendons of his feet. She shuddered to imagine how much they hurt him. Lyrium was toxic.

Fenris' head lolled to the side, and Hawke saw a line of drool making its way from the corner of his mouth. Sighing, she rinsed the soap and grime from him, and dragged him back up the hill to the tents.

 

Varric chuckled as he saw Hawke rounding the corner. She rolled her eyes and dumped Fenris into an empty tent. Merrill caught her eye, and the two of them returned to bathe together. 

Once they returned from bathing, Hawke sent Varric off watch, and pulled out some jerky and tough bread, Merrill had brought berries, and they all ate in silence. 

Merrill took over Hawke's watch around midnight, and Hawke made her way back to the tents, Varric's boots were outside the tent Merrill had been sleeping in, so she crawled into the tent with Fenris. 

 

\-----

 

Fenris awoke suddenly, sitting upright, his cock straining at his breeches, his arm draped over pale flesh. Hawke? He looked around, Hawke was in her tunic and breeches, he was still wearing his leather breeches. He cursed under his breath. He'd had another dream. None of it had been real. He sniffed himself, the scent of soap wafted from his pits.

"Passed out while bathing..." He muttered to himself. Turning over, he lay on his belly and tried to will his erection away. 

Hawke sighed in her sleep, Fenris buried his head in his arms, his hips thrust into his bedding. He soon grew anxious that she would wake, and adjusted himself. He could control this.

He glanced at her sleeping form, she must have taken him back to the tent after he passed out, she looked exhausted. Something tender washed over him as he heard her steady breathing, he reached a shaking hand out to hold hers. He stared at her until his eyes grew heavy, and he fell asleep. 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Hawke could hear Fenris shuffle around as he woke, almost blaming it on her heart pounding heavily. She did her best to lay still, yet he'd let out this groan...

Eventually he fell asleep again, and Hawke rolled to face the canvas wall of the tent. She bit at the inside of her lip and moved around a little, finally settling with raising a knee up. Fenris rolled over in his sleep, his arm settling across her waist again. 

She wondered if he was used to sleeping with someone. The thought festered in her mind as sleep took her.

 

\---

 

Varric's smug look, as Fenris got out of the tent for his watch, infuriated him. The shorter man was busy with a quill, he could peek, yet his illiteracy would reveal nothing of the contents of the hasty scribbles.

"So, get any sleep, Broody?" The dwarven man asked. Fenris rubbed at his eye in irritation, obviously the nickname was going to stick. 

"Surprisingly, yes." He replied, pulling out some of the rations that had been set aside for him. He chewed the jerky thoughtfully. Hawke made him ache, yes, but she had to want him too. If she didn't... he frowned. Perhaps he would have to make his intentions clear. Or at least his attraction. 

Varric cocked an eyebrow at the comment, yet continued to sit and scratch at the parchment, so Fenris decided to ask.

"What's happening in this one?"

Varric coughed a little at the elven man's sudden interest in his work. He'd been working on a subplot of his Swords and Shields story, shuffling the dry pages around, he stacked them and handed them to Fenris. 

After turning the pages around in his hands for a good few minutes, Fenris cleared his throat. Varric looked at him.

"Well?" Varric asked. Fenris handed the pages back, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Did you like it?"

Fenris looked down, he'd made some sense of the scribbled drawings, but the rest was illegible, as always. 

"The... drawing of Hawke.. it... was unexpected..."

Varric looked through the pages, and found the drawing in question, clearly a study of Hawke. He chuckled at Fenris' awkwardness as he flipped the page and saw another study he'd done of Hawke smiling. It had been while they'd been having breakfast with Merrill. 

"I meant the story, Broody."

Fenris was staring at the tent he had crawled from, aching to be back with Hawke, and he didn't hear Varric. For a moment, Varric thought about asking again, yet the light from the rising sun caught on Fenris' features, so he started to sketch. 

 

\------

 

The sun was barely rising as Hawke's hand slipped inside her smallclothes. Her desire squelched as she thrust fingers inside, desperate to rub a quick one out before Fenris returned for his things. She was about to come, when Fenris' deep voice requesting entry interrupted her concentration, or rather, pushed her over the edge. She gasped loudly as she shuddered around her hand. 

Fenris uttered an apology, and Hawke shook with embarrassment, there was only the tent separating them, and she was certain she hadn't sounded startled. Biting her lip, she entertained the idea of letting him see her with her soaked smalls, touseled hair and sticky fingers, yet she thought better of it. She had barely pulled her smalls back up when he pushed the tent flap open, and rushed inside.

Eyeing him carefully, and feigning sleepiness, Hawke rubbed her eyes, and pulled the blanket over her legs more. Feeling her face heat up even more than it already was, Hawke patted the spot next to her in a friendly guesture. She felt Fenris' eyes flicker over her body, then he looked away. 

Hawke watched as he sat down and adjusted himself stiffly. He gave her a sort of look that she thought maybe she was imagining. Until he couldn't hide the obvious tent in his trousers.

"I heard you..." He groaned. "I heard you say my name..." 

Hawke clasped her hand over her mouth, the hot feeling reaching her ears, and rushing down her neck. 

He opened his knees wide, Hawke could clearly see the shape of his cock as it throbbed. 

He continued, his voice thickening with lust. "I heard the way you gasped it as you came..." 

He covered his face with his hands, he was shaking. 

"Hawke... Please... Say something..." 

\---

She took his breath away with the first kiss, pinning him to the ground. 

Fenris held her tightly to still his nerves, she was much softer than he had imagined, and he could hear a stuttering sound every time she pulled away. It took him a while to realise it was his own voice, overcome and broken with pleasure.

He'd been sitting, staring at the tent as Varric drew, thinking about Hawke, when he heard a noise come from the tent. 

Varric had shrugged him off when he asked if he'd heard it, but he suggested he go and check on Hawke "to be safe". 

He'd gotten closer to the tent when he realised what the noise was, he could hear slick movements and shuffling around. Then a sigh, and a "Fenris..."

He had asked for entry then, and heard a sweet shocked half gasp, then a few pants, and a moan. 

The next few moments had been a blur, he'd said something, while looking at Hawke, remembered dropping to his knees, his throbbing cock, and her scent.

Now she was hovering over him, pulling his lip back with her own, and teasing him with her tongue. He was overwhelmed, and kept asking if it was real. Hawke responded with deeper kisses. 

\---

Hawke came in her hand, covering her mouth, biting down on the flesh of her palm as she rubbed her stiff nub again. Another orgasm was coming, this fantasy was pushing her over the edge. 

After coming again, it seemed as if she were sated, for now. She felt a little exhausted, so she pulled her blanket back over her legs, yet kicked her smalls into the corner near her pack. 

She fell asleep with her hands between her legs.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
